


Of Magic and Men

by FrankenSpine



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Dark Magic, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Familiars, Paranormal, Re-upload, Shapeshifting, swanqueen endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 14,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenSpine/pseuds/FrankenSpine
Summary: Re-upload of what was formerly known as 'Friends in Medial Places.'Henry has spent his entire life in an orphanage, desperate for a family. One night, he spots a shooting star and wishes he wasn't so alone. He doesn't expect it to actually come true.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills & Henry Mills & Emma Swan, Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took this story down a while ago because I had planned to publish it after altering the names/details, but that didn't exactly work out, so I've decided to post it again. I grew to dislike the old title so I have chosen to rename it. I have also tweaked the ending a bit so it isn't as corny.

It seemed like just another lonely night in the orphanage. Almost. There was but a single star in the night sky, and in Henry’s eyes, that made all the difference. Now he didn’t feel quite so alone. Of course, his rational side did its best to assure him he was just that, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. It was by no means frightening (though in hindsight, perhaps it should have been). Rather, he was comforted by it.

He only wished there truly was someone there. Someone he could confide in. Someone he could call his friend. He knew he could always talk to Mother Superior, or any of the other nuns, but that simply wasn’t the same. He couldn’t speak to them like he could other children. Then again, he couldn’t speak to the children, either. Not here.

That was the problem. Henry had lived here his entire life— today marking the beginning of his tenth year— and he had yet to be taken in by a loving family. Day after day, he watched the other orphans ride away in luxury cars with happy couples, always present but never given so much as a glance. Having been brought up by nuns, he tried to have faith, he truly did, but his faith had long since faded. It was now dwindling, hanging by a mere thread. He doubted it would hold out for much longer.

Either way, he found it impossible to make friends. The other children were either too young to share any common interests, or they left with their new families before he could really get to know them. Apart from the nuns, he had no one (even saying he had _them_ was a stretch).

Gazing up at the lone star, Henry was mesmerized by its shimmering radiance. Then, as quickly as it had begun to glisten, it vanished into the night, gone in the blink of an eye. He shook his head in disbelief, looking up once more, just to be sure. It was nowhere in sight. He let out a sigh and hung his head in defeat.

“Great,” he muttered, “Even stars don’t wanna be friends with me.”

He may not have known it, but his words did not go unheard that night.

* * *

He was running, panting harder and harder with every passing moment, each of them feeling like an eternity. His heart thundered in his chest like a powerful war drum. He was running through a dark void— so dark it could cast a shadow upon darkness itself— though no matter where he went, a blinding light shone down on him like a relentless spotlight. He may not have been able to see anyone else, but he swore he could hear faint whispers coming from somewhere in the nightmarish plane. He wasn’t sure what they were saying, but he knew without a doubt that he had no desire to find out. What was worse was the sound of footsteps echoing behind him. They very well may have been his own, but something told him that was definitely not the case. Again, he had no intention of stopping to find out.

No matter how badly his legs hurt, no matter how much his lungs burned, nor how breathless he became, he would simply keep running. There was someone— some _thing—_ behind him. He could feel its sickeningly-hot breath on the back of his neck. Cold sweat rolled down his pale flesh. The blood in his veins felt like ice. In the ominous light, Henry spotted the shadows of two large hands (not that he could have ever missed them), each adorned with long, deadly claws. That thing, whatever it was, clearly wasn’t planning on giving him a back scratch, so he wouldn’t be stopping to take it up on its offer.

The thing spoke. Its voice was disturbingly childlike, though it undoubtedly belonged to a grown man. Henry tried everything in his power to block out the chilling voice, but it was no use. He quickly realized he wasn’t hearing it with his ears, but rather, within his mind. He was powerless to stop it.

* * *

He awoke suddenly, gasping for breath. His heart was pounding just as hard as it had been in his dream, of which he vividly recalled each and every detail, save for one. Whatever it was that had echoed in his head, he could no longer remember, and for that, he was grateful (to say the least).

Just when his heart was beginning to let up, he caught a glimpse of movement. His eyes snapped to the window, widening in terror as a tall, winged creature climbed through. He blinked quickly, and as he did, the shape of the creature shifted into that of a woman. Her hair looked as thought it was spun from solid gold, glistening beautifully in the moonlight. She almost seemed angelic, and perhaps she would have been, had she not been breaking into an orphanage in the dead of night.

Henry gasped, drawing the woman’s attention. Each of them froze, both staring at one another in utter shock (though more so on Henry’s part). The woman put her hands up as if surrendering, or perhaps to show the boy that she was unarmed and had no intention to hurt him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“What— who are you?” demanded Henry.

“Take it easy, kid,” the blonde whispered frantically, “I’m just here to make sure you’re safe.”

Henry frowned. “Safe from what?”

His blood ran cold when the woman pointed beneath his bed.

“From _her.”_


	2. Chapter 2

For as long as she’d been watching over him, the blonde had never once seen the boy look quite so terrified. Nor had she seen him move so quickly. He practically dove off of the bed, groaning as he landed roughly on the floor, before frantically crawling over to her. She was just grateful she had gained his trust, if only for the time being.

“Wh-What?” he stammered, “What’re you talking about? Is there something under there?”

“Not something,” replied the blonde, “Some _one.”_

“Who?” he asked, shaking uncontrollably as he clung to her leg.

_“The Queen.”_

Henry’s grip on the blonde’s jeans tightened. It was not her who spoke. In fact, this voice was coming from beneath the bed. It even seemed to echo, though he kept telling himself it was merely his imagination. He certainly hoped it was, just like everything else going on.

Just like the pointed, black nails adorning the tips of the lithe fingers slipping out from the shadows beneath his tiny bed. Just like the unnatural— or perhaps, all _too_ natural— midnight dress that shimmered like the stars in the night sky. Just like the eyes that seemed to flash a dangerous red, shifting to a deep mahogany as they emerged from the shadows, and with them came the terrifyingly-beautiful face of a woman in black.

The woman rose out from within the darkness, and as she did, an enormous pair of raven-like wings spread from her back. She slowly turned and faced the blonde woman, narrowing her eyes as she did. Her features softened when she noticed the boy at the blonde’s side. She smiled warmly at him.

“Hello, little one. I mean you no harm.”

Now it was the blonde whose eyes narrowed. “Liar,” she snapped, “You’re the one who gives him nightmares.”

The Queen bared her teeth in anger, stepping closer to the idiotic blonde. “No, it is I who _chases away_ his nightmares. How dare you accuse me of bringing harm to a child?! Just who do you think you are?”

“I’m his—” the blonde froze, glancing down at the boy with uncertainty, “I’m his, uh, _G.A.”_

“My _what?”_ asked Henry.

The Queen folded her arms. “Yes, pray tell, what is this ‘G.A.’ you speak of?”

“Well, you know, his— his, um— Godly Advisor?”

Henry blinked, puzzled. “What? Are you a nun? 'cause you don’t look like one.”

The Queen’s eyes widened in realization. “No,” she said, shaking her head, “No, it can’t be. You’re an _angel.”_

The blonde sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. _“Arch_ angel, actually. See?”

She reached into her jacket and pulled out a shiny golden badge, similar to a policeman’s, but unlike any Henry had ever seen.

Henry shot up in a flash. “Wait, _what?_ What’s going on? What do you people want from me?”

 _“I just want to keep you safe,”_ the two women said in unison.

They blinked at one another in surprise, but still they remained wary. They each stepped closer to the boy, pausing when he began to back away in fear. The two moved back so as to not terrorize him any further.

“Who are you?” he asked again, “What do you mean, ‘keep me safe?’ Safe from what?”

“From her,” said the blonde, “She’s a monster.”

The Queen glared at the woman. “I’d be careful throwing such an ugly word around if I were you.” She then turned back to Henry. “As I said, I mean you no harm, dear one. It is my sworn duty to chase your demons away, as I do with all children.”

The blonde scoffed. “That's funny, coming from the Queen of Demons.”

“I am the Queen of _Shadows,_ thank you very much,” the brunette huffed, “I ensure nothing evil lurks within them. Oftentimes, the evil escapes into the minds of the innocent— children, more often than not— and once more, I chase it out.”

“How poetic,” said the blonde, “So you had absolutely no intentions of devouring this kid’s soul?”

“What? Of course not! I would never bring harm to a child,” said the Queen, “and if you really must know, I was protecting him from _You-Know-Who.”_

The woman in red froze. Now _she_ looked terrified, and that was putting it lightly.

Henry glanced between the pair in obvious concern. “Um, is she okay?”

“I believe she will be just fine,” the Queen assured him, “Now, why don’t you go back to sleep, little one? It’s past your bedtime.”

“Am I gonna have any more nightmares?”

The Queen offered him a warm smile. “I’ll see to it that doesn’t happen,” she promised, “Go on, now. This will most likely seem like a dream to you when you awaken, but no matter what, little one, always remember you’re not alone.”

Henry’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean we’re,” he paused, _“friends?”_

“Of course it does.” She gently ushered him back to bed. “Goodnight, my friend,” she murmured.

Henry yawned. “Night.” 

Once she was certain the boy was asleep, the Queen turned to the mortified blonde with fire in her eyes.

“Now you listen to me,” she hissed, “I have everything here under control. I don’t need Mister Big-Shot sending any of his arch-goons to do my job. As the Queen of Shadows, I know the darkness well. Naturally, I know how to deal with You-Know-Who. He almost got the boy. Luckily, I was able to ward him off before you showed up, you insufferable harpy. This is my domain. You have no business here. Now go.”

“The darkness may be your territory,” said the blonde, “but the light is mine.”

“So you say.”

“Look, how about we make a deal?”

“I don’t make deals. They’ve never done me much good.”

“Look, I was just gonna say that maybe, you know, I could look after him during the day, and you can do it at night.” 

“You wish to share guard duty? Is that it?”

“Well, not really, but I’d rather do that than stand around bitching.”

The Queen frowned. "Language! There is a child present.”

“The kid’s asleep.”

“It makes no difference.”

Emma just shrugged. “Whatever. You wanna do this or not?”

The Queen pursed her lips. “Very well. As long as you stay away once the sun sets.”

“Sure thing, Queenie.”

“It’s ‘Your Majesty,’” the Queen corrected.

The blonde rolled her eyes as she extended her hand. “You’re not _my_ Majesty,” she said, “I answer to the Big Man Upstairs. No one else.”

“Right. How could I forget?”

The Queen reluctantly took the blonde’s hand, and as she did, both women were taken aback by the peculiar surge of energy that sparked between them. They each jumped back, startled.

“What the fuck was that?”

The Queen raised an eyebrow at the irritating blonde. “How eloquent, Miss…?”

“Swan,” said the blonde, “Emma Swan.”

The Queen offered a tight smile. “Goodbye, Miss Swan.” 

Emma began climbing back out the window. “See ya around, Queenie!”

And as quickly as she had appeared, the angel was gone. 

With a sigh, the Queen turned back to the sleeping child and a genuine smile graced her lips as she watched him. He looked so peaceful. It took everything she had not to lean down and kiss his head, as tempting as that was. She had refrained from doing it this long. It shouldn’t have been this difficult. Still, the crack in her heart worsened the longer she looked at his sweet face. She couldn’t resist this time. 

Gently— ever so gently— she brought to fingers to her lips and adorned them with a soft kiss. Then she pressed them lightly to the boy’s forehead. The touch was brief, but she knew she had crossed the line. 

“Goodnight, my little Prince.”

Only after she made her descent back into the shadows did she wipe the tear from her cheek. 


	3. Chapter 3

Henry’s eyes fluttered open as he felt the warm sun on his face. He was overcome with a feeling of tenderness and affection. The two seemed to encompass him like a blanket. It a strange sensation, though he found it solacing. Turning, he both heard and felt the distinct crackle of paper beneath his pillow. He swiftly retrieved it, unsure how and when it got there. His eyes lit up as they scanned the page.

_‘See you when the sun sets, little one.’_

At the lower right corner of the note was a small crest in the shape of a raven. Henry grinned uncontrollably, going over the note again and again as the memory of the previous night came flooding back into his mind. He recalled the Queen saying something about it all feeling like a dream, but that simply wasn’t the case. He wasn’t crazy, he knew that of course, but there was no way any of that had been a dream. It was all too real. He may have been a kid, but he knew the difference between fantasy and reality. Or so he thought.

A soft cooing drew his attention to the window, where he found a white dove staring in at him. It merely blinked at him, as any bird would, but somehow, he knew this was no ordinary bird. He was sure of it. Slipping the note into his pocket, he climbed out of bed and walked to the window, hoping with all his heart that he wasn’t making a mistake. He pulled it up, and the dove stepped onto the sill. He hesitantly reached out, not wishing to frighten it, and was surprised to find that the bird would allow him to touch it. He stroked its head gently.

“Are you her?” he whispered, “Are you the lady with the cool jacket?”

The dove cooed at him, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a faint, _‘Hell yeah!’_ This made him chuckle. He continued to stand there and pet the docile creature. This wasn’t so scary, he thought. Not like last night, when he saw the winged creature— whatever it was— climbing through the window.

“I remember you and the Queen saying something about you being an angel,” he said, “Is that true?”

The dove was silent as it turned away, flapping its wings and flying off. He gasped, reaching desperately for the elegant bird, but it was too far gone. He let out a sad sigh as he slumped to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat with his back against the wall. He looked to the bed, feeling more hopeful than he had in a long time.

“At least I still have _you,”_ he said, retrieving the note from his pocket.

He smiled at it fondly. He couldn’t believe he’d never known about the woman under his bed. Why was she just now revealing herself to him? The same went for the angel, or whatever she was. He shook his head, unable to comprehend any of the strange occurrences.

He stood up, knowing he needed to get ready for the day, lest one of the nuns barge in and order him to do so. He would much rather not put up with that sort of drama. He changed out of his pajamas and into a pair of khakis and a black shirt with long, gray sleeves. As with most of his clothes, they were hand-me-downs, and thus, a bit big for him. He rolled up the ends of his pants and sleeves before glancing at the clock on his desk. It was almost eight-thirty. Breakfast time.

Feeling his stomach rumble, he walked quickly to the door and turned the knob, but something gave him pause. He looked to the bed reluctantly, feeling a bit guilty for just running off. He instead approached his bed and knelt down to peer into the darkness beneath it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly, “Gotta have breakfast.”

Just then, the door opened and Henry looked up to see Mother Superior blinking quizzically at him.

“What are you doing down there, Henry?”

He offered her a forced smile. “Uh, talking to my friend.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh? And who is this friend?”

Henry glanced around quickly, searching for an answer. “Uh," he paused, _"Jesus?”_

To his surprise, Mother Superior chuckled and shook her head in amusement. It took her a moment to compose herself. Henry had never seen her react this way before. He was stunned to learn that she had a sense of humor.

“Well then,” she said, biting back a laugh, “Carry on. Just know that it’s almost time for breakfast.”

“Be right down.”

The woman nodded and quietly closed the door. The second it clicked shut, Henry sat back against the bed and let out a sigh of relief.

“That was close,” he said.

He swore he saw movement in the shadows, but when he looked, there was nothing there. He patted the floor as he stood up. It was then that he noticed the small notebook on his nightstand. He hadn’t noticed it before. It certainly didn’t belong to him. It was bound in black leather and imprinted in the cover was the same raven crest he had seen at the bottom of the Queen’s note.

Grinning, he picked up the little notebook and swiftly jotted down a message with the pen he found beside it. He smiled and set it down next to the bed before heading downstairs to have breakfast. It was pancake day, and he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Meanwhile, curious eyes peeked out from beneath the bed at the message he had left in the open book.

_‘Be back soon. I promise.’_

A delicate hand reached out from the shadows and pulled the notebook under the bed with care, as if it were the most precious thing in all the realms. Well, perhaps the _second_ most precious.

* * *

Henry arrived back at his room nearly half an hour later, groaning as he clutched at his aching stomach. He had eaten far too many pancakes. He knew he should have stopped after three, but his stomach demanded he eat seven, and so he did.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He went to lie on his bed, hoping that would make him feel better, and looked to see the notebook right where he had left it. Only this time, there was a second message, just beneath his.

_‘Try not to eat too many pancakes, dearest.’_

His eyes nearly burst out of his skull as he raced for the toilet.


	4. Chapter 4

Henry didn’t receive any more notes following his disastrous pancake breakfast. He felt saddened by this, but he was sure the Queen had a good reason for her sudden silence. She didn’t seem like the type to just ignore someone, especially not him. She seemed particularly fond of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he appreciated it, nonetheless.

It was close to noon when he heard a knock at the door. _“Henry?”_ It was Mother Superior.

“Yeah?”

She slowly opened the door, poking her head in to check on him. “Are you feeling any better?”

“I’m okay now,” he told her.

“Can I get you anything?”

Henry shook his head. “No, that’s okay. Thanks, though.”

The petite woman smiled. “You’re welcome, Henry. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

With that, she closed the door. Henry listened until the clicking of her heels faded into silence before letting out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He rolled onto his stomach (albeit hesitantly) and peered over the edge of the bed at the notebook. It hadn’t moved. There were no more messages.

“Why won’t you talk to me?” he whined.

_“Because she would be breaking our agreement if she did.”_

Henry’s head shot up towards the door. It was wide open. In it stood the lady with the cool jacket. He blinked at her, puzzled.

“What agreement? How'd you get in here?”

The blonde waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, “and I’m with CPS. Just doing a routine inspection, talking with all the kids, ya know? Gotta make sure there’s no shady shit going down.”

It was impossible for her to miss the loud thump that came from beneath the bed, though the boy didn’t seem to notice.

“Are you an angel?” Henry asked bluntly.

The woman’s eyes grew to the size of the moon and she immediately brought a finger to her lips, frowning.

 _“Shhh!_ What’s wrong with you, kid? You trying to blow my cover? Keep it down, will ya? I’ve got a good thing going here. I don’t need you fucking things up.”

Another thump, this time even louder. Henry took notice of this one.

“I get the feeling she doesn’t like you swearing.”

The blonde scoffed. “Ya think?” She crossed her arms. “She’d get over it if only she’d pull that stick out of her ass.”

Henry frowned. “You know, for an angel, you’re not very nice.”

“And you think _she_ is?”

“Well, yeah,” said Henry, “She writes me notes and stuff, and she makes me feel safe.”

“Don’t trust her, she’s a total snake. She’s just baiting you, luring you in so she can strike.”

“Why do you hate her so much? What’s she ever done to you?”

“She’s evil. That’s all you need to know.”

“Well I _don’t_ know that, and I _definitely_ don’t believe it,” said Henry, “How do I know you’re not evil?”

The angel frowned. “I’m just not, okay? I work for the Big Man.”

Henry gaped at her. “Clarence Clemons?”

“What?” The blonde shook her head. “Whoa, kid, I won’t even ask how a ten-year-old knows who Clarence Clemons is, but no, not him. I meant the Big Man Upstairs.”

The boy’s eyes lit up. “Clarence Clemons is upstairs?!”

“No!” the blonde snapped. She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Look, I’m an angel, alright. Archangel, if you wanna get specific. I work for the one you people call ‘God.’ Not very creative, if you ask me, but whatever. Happy now?”

“Is that what you meant when you said you were my Godly Advisor?”

“I fibbed a little, kid. I’m your Guardian Angel,” the blonde explained, “and that _witch_ you call your friend is the monster under your bed.”

“She’s not a monster,” Henry protested.

“That’s what she wants you to think. She might seem sweet, but she’s deadly, like poison in a honeypot.”

“What?”

“She’s bad news, kid. Don’t listen to her.”

“If you hate her so much, then why’d you make a deal with her?”

“Well, I mostly just wanted to get away from her and her constant nagging, but I—”

“But what?” asked Henry.

The blonde shook her head. “Nothing. Forget it, kid.”

“My name’s not ‘kid.’ It’s—”

“I know, kid— I mean— _fuck._ Sorry. Look, keep that on the down low, okay? There are certain people listening that don’t need to know your name. If they know it, they’ll use it against you. Understand?”

“No, not really.”

The woman sighed. “Just don’t mention your name, alright?”

“Can I write it down?”

The blonde opened her mouth to speak, but promptly closed it, unsure of the answer. She pondered it a moment before coming to her ultimate decision.

“No.”

“Why not? What’s going on?”

“If you can’t understand that, then you won’t understand anything else, kid. I’ve gotta go. Duty calls,” said the angel, “Just remember: I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. That dove wasn’t me, it was just an extension of me, and I’ve got plenty more where that came from.”

She closed the door on her way out.

Henry sighed as he rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a mix of sorrow, anger, and most notably, confusion. He knew he wasn’t technically alone, but he certainly felt that way, and it left a stinging pain in his chest, likely from the hole in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

A single tear rolled down his cheek as he waited on baited breath for the response he never received. The silence was deafening. He spent the rest of the afternoon in his room. He slept on and off, having neither pleasant nor unpleasant dreams. He whimpered as he slept. When he woke, he wept.

And there wasn’t a thing the Queen could do about it.


	5. Chapter 5

Henry woke with a jolt, struggling to breathe as he shot up in the bed. Cold sweat dripped down his forehead. His entire body felt tense. There was an intense pain, not in his empty stomach, but in his empty chest. The hole in his heart had grown so wide there was almost nothing left. At least, that was how he felt. He was surprised to find the sun was going down. If the sun was setting, then that meant—

He scrambled off of the bed, bringing his pillow and blankets down with him. He lied on the floor in wait, staring hopefully at the black void before him. His heart was racing with anticipation. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He wanted— no, needed— to see her. He needed her to hold him, to comfort him. He needed her like he had never needed anyone before. This was more than friendship. So much more. He just didn’t know what.

“Please,” he whispered, “I need you.”

His eyes were essentially sealed shut. Tears still streaked his reddened face, gleaming in the pale, blue moonlight that had begun flooding in through the window. He gasped in surprise when a gentle hand wiped away the testament of his sorrow.

“I am so sorry, sweet one,” the Queen said remorsefully, “So, so sorry. I never wished for you to get hurt. Please, can you forgive me?”

“It’s not your fault,” he told her, “It’s that _stupid_ angel. She kept saying you were evil, and that you wanna hurt me, but I know better. I _know_ you’re good. I don’t know _how_ I know, but I do. I just _do.”_

The Queen made her way out from the shadows, sitting with her back against the boy’s bed. Once more, she resisted the urge to kiss him. The fact that she couldn’t brought with it a maelstrom of bitterness. She instead reached down and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. The smile she gave him was brighter than the sun and moon could have ever hoped to be. How cruel that she was doomed to spend eternity in the darkness, so close to this precious child, yet still so far away.

“I’m sorry she said all those things about you,” said Henry.

The Queen didn’t doubt for a second that he was being sincere. “You needn’t be sorry, little one,” she assured him, “You aren’t at fault. Besides, I’m no stranger to insults.”

Henry sat up so that they were eye to eye. “Well, I’m still sorry.”

“You have such a kind heart,” murmured the Queen, “Come here, darling.”

She extended her arm invitingly, and Henry was at her side in an instant. He leaned his head on her shoulder as she brought her arm around him, holding him close. The angel was wrong. There was no way the Queen was dangerous. He had never felt safer. His eyes drifted shut as she hummed softly to him.

He was on the verge of slumber when the angel’s words began to echo in his mind. He looked up at the Queen sleepily, suppressing a yawn.

“The angel said I can’t tell anyone my name because ‘people are listening,’ or something. She said I can’t write it down, either. What’s that all about?”

“Ah, the one sensible thing out of that fool’s mouth,” the Queen mused, “She’s right about that, you know. There are people— err, _certain beings—_ in this world that should not be. Some of them are good, others, not so much. There is one in particular, not quite a man. More of a beast, really. He is the worst of the worst. He is always listening, always watching. I’m certain he’s watching us as we speak. To speak his cursed name will only bring trouble. To tell him your name will give him power over you, and believe me, little one, you do _not_ want that.”

“Can’t I whisper it?”

The Queen chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, dearest.”

“Well, how will I tell you my name?”

She smiled fondly at him. “No need. I already know it.”

Henry was taken aback by this. “Really?”

The Queen nodded. “Really.”

“How?”

“Perhaps another day, sweet one. There are far more important things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

“Why, sleep, of course.”

“What? But I don’t wanna go to sleep. I’ve done that enough today. I just wanna hang out with you. You’re cool.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said the Queen, “I suppose I can ‘hang out’ tonight. What, might I ask, does ‘hanging out’ entail?”

Henry shrugged. “Just having fun.”

“And what do you think is fun?”

“Drawing, looking at comics, watching TV, eating— but I didn’t think it was very fun this morning— and building blanket forts!”

“Would you like to build one?”

“You mean you want to?”

“Only if you do, dear.”

Henry grinned. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

The two were currently curled up together under their blanket fort, which the Queen had to admit was rather impressive. Henry was showing her his many comics with the help of his flashlight. Once he had grown tired of that, he began telling her all about something called _Star Wars,_ and later, _Tron._ And once he had grown tired of that, he began showing her the mountain of drawings he had done throughout the years.

Most people might have grown tired of the boy’s long-windedness, but not the Queen. No, not her. She reveled in the stories he told her, and in the time they shared together. It was all either of them wanted. All they needed.

And what better way to top off that incredible night than with Henry curling up against her, half-asleep, and mumbling, _“I love you.”_

The Queen hadn’t felt such happiness since the day Henry was born.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Henry noticed when he opened his eyes was that he was back in his bed, with the blankets and pillows back where they belonged. He felt disheartened by this until he found the notebook lying open on his nightstand. It was turned to a new page, on which another message was neatly written.

_‘My deepest apologies for taking down our blanket fort, little one, but you needed your rest, and I did not wish for you to freeze. Worry not. We shall rebuild it when the sun goes down. Until then, enjoy your gift. It awaits you at the window.’_

He hurried over to the window and was stunned to find a raven sitting in a silver cage just outside, peering up at him curiously. He retrieved the cage and quickly pulled it inside. It was only when he set it on his desk that he noticed the small tag tied to the ring at the top.

 _‘Here is my gift to you, dear child. Name him well. Ravens are noble creatures, and thus, they require noble names. I am afraid it would be unwise to call him “Darth Vader.” Choose carefully. You may name him only once. Be sure you never speak it aloud. Only think of his name in your mind, and he will come to you. He is an extension of me. As long as he is with you, so am I. With love, the Queen._ ’

* * *

When the angel checked in on him through her mirror, she was stunned (to say the least) to find the boy at his desk, chatting away with a tranquil raven. Colored pencil shavings and wadded pieces of paper littered the desk. Her eyes widened when she noticed what he was drawing. It appeared to be a picture of himself holding hands a winged figure. She had to admit, he was pretty good for a ten-year-old. Her curiosity turned to chagrin when the boy began coloring the wings black.

“Of course he’s drawing _her,”_ she said bitterly.

Henry was oblivious to the angel’s prying eyes. He continued to fill in the Queen’s wings, taking extra care to color inside the lines. He wanted it to be perfect, though he had the feeling she would appreciate it no matter how it turned out.

He paused when he heard a quiet tapping. Lifting his head, he looked to the window and found the white dove staring in at him. He frowned at the bird and promptly looked back down, picking up where he left off in both his masterpiece and his one-sided conversation with the raven, which he had deemed ‘Vladimir.’

“You know, you’re a real nice bird,” he said. “You’re not annoying like that dove out there. You probably don’t understand a word I’m saying, but if you’re attached to the Queen or whatever, then that’s enough for me. I guess that makes you a living telephone, doesn’t it?”

He laughed quietly to himself, shading the feathers on the Queen’s wings as best as he could. He was grinning from ear to ear. He couldn’t wait to built another blanket fort. Nor could he wait to show the Queen his drawing. He liked to think of himself as a young Van Gogh. He never liked Picasso.

A lightbulb flashed above his head as he finished coloring the wings. He set the black pencil aside and reached for the dark blue one. He then began filling in the background with a child’s rendition of ‘Starry Night.’ It reminded him of his first encounter with the Queen, something he never wanted to forget (not that he ever would). He sighed happily as he reminisced. He knew it was only a few nights ago, but it seemed like so much longer than that. He felt as though he’d known her his entire life.

* * *

The angel stood outside the orphanage alongside her partner, knocking almost violently at the door. Mother Superior opened it, completely taken aback by the blonde’s behavior.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“We’ve received word that a boy here has been abused,” said the angel, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with him.”

The brunette gasped. “W-What on Earth? No, no, you must be mistaken—”

“I’m not saying it did or didn’t happen,” said the irritated blonde, “I’m just doing my job. If you don’t let us in, my partner and I will return with a court-order. What will it be?”

“This is _sick.”_

“What’s sick is the idea that you won’t let us investigate a potential crime,” the angel countered, “Got something to hide?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why not let us in?”

Mother Superior hung her head in defeat. “Who is it you think is being abused?”

_“Henry Mills.”_

* * *

As he listened from the top of the stairs, Henry felt as though he’d just had the wind knocked out of him. He darted back into his room and quickly locked the door. Panicking, he grabbed his backpack from the closet and hurriedly put the cage inside, making sure not to close it all the way, lest Vladimir suffocate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His eyes were brimming with tears. “I have to get out of here.”

He pulled the window open and carefully set the bag down on the fire escape. His heart raced like a wild stallion. He could hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. It was now or never. The angel was now knocking frantically at his door, as if she knew exactly what he was doing.

“Henry?” It was Mother Superior. “Henry, I need you to open the door. There are people here who want to speak with you. Won't you please come out?”

There was no answer.

The boy was already running through the back alley with his backpack on, not wanting the angel to find him. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of déjà vu. It terrified him. What made matters worse was the sunlight shining down on him, just like that hellish spotlight from his dream. He knew he should have kept running, but something made him freeze. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as a distinct tapping came from somewhere behind him. It was getting louder, closer, and closer still.

He didn’t know why he turned around, yet he did. He didn’t want to, yet he did. He found himself face to face with a stone-faced man in a black suit. He didn’t have to look at this man to know something wasn’t right. He could feel it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice— no, _two of them—_ screamed for him to run.

_Run. Run and never stop._

The man— beast, whatever he was— tapped his cane against the concrete, and the smile that graced his thin lips sent chills down Henry’s spine.

_“Hello, Dearie.”_

* * *

The angel sank to her knees in the middle of the empty room. The window was wide open. A breeze rolled through, blowing a piece of paper onto the floor in front of her. It was the boy’s drawing, just as she had seen before, only this time there was something different about it. Something not quite right, and dare she say, sinister. Something that terrified her.

The boy in the picture was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Night fell, and the Queen leapt out from the shadows. She was in tears. Her makeup left dark, angry streaks on her face. The second she spotted the angel standing there, her eyes flashed a dangerous red and she threw the blonde back against the wall with her magic. She had one hand locked around the blonde’s throat. In the other, she held a burning flame.

“Where _is_ he?!” she screamed, not caring who heard her.

Her wings were spread wide in a show of dominance. Her crimson eyes smoldered with fury. She reveled in the angel’s desperate gasps for breath. Her nails extended into claws, sinking deeper and deeper into the blonde’s pale flesh.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you!”

Unable to speak, the angel reached out to the Queen with her mind. _‘Because, you’ll spend eternity in exile!’_

“Idiot! I’m already in exile! Don’t you know anything?!” the Queen roared, “I don’t care if I never go back! All I want is Henry!”

 _‘Why do you want him so badly? What’s so special about him? He’s just a kid_!’

The Queen grit her teeth in primal rage. “He’s my _son,_ you imbecile!” she screamed.

It was then that her grip on the angel’s throat loosened, and she fell to her knees in agony. The flame vanished from her palm. Her shoulders shook violently as she wept, wrapping her wings around herself like a protective shield. She glared up at the angel, hatred burning in her piercing red eyes.

“This is _your_ fault,” she seethed, “I had _everything_ under control! If you hadn’t shown up, none of this would have ever happened! I would still have Henry! But because of _you,_ the Dark One has him!”

The angel was slumped against the wall, struggling to catch her breath. The broken skin on her neck slowly pieced itself back together. She frowned, not in anger, but in concern. She bit her lip as guilt overcame her.

“Look,” she rasped, “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for this to happen. I wanna protect him as much as you do—”

“No! You shut your mouth!” the Queen hissed, “You’re only trying— and failing, I must add— to protect Henry because a _certain someone_ ordered you to. I’ve kept him safe his entire life, because I am his mother, and because I love him!”

“You don’t think I love him, too?” the blonde snapped, “I may not be the kid’s mother, but I do care about him.”

“If you truly cared, you never would have tried to take him from me! Didn’t you see how distraught he was?! You weren’t protecting him! You were hurting him! I heard that whole spiel about someone abusing him. You were right. He _was_ being abused— by _you!”_

“What? No! I wouldn’t hurt him! I can’t!”

“Why? Because you’re an angel?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Well, guess what, Miss Swan?” barked the Queen, “I was an angel once, too! Can’t you see these wings? Unlike you, I can’t make them disappear! I’m stuck with them. This is part of my punishment. No one wants an angel with black wings! No one wants anything to do with me— no one but Henry, but because of you, he’s gone! And I don’t care how many people I have to kill to get him back. I swear, I shall crush the hearts of all who get in my way!”

“Would he want you if he knew you were a murderer?”

The Queen was on her feet in an instant. She loomed threateningly over the blonde, her crimson eyes glowing eerily in the darkness.

“Out of my way, Swan,” she growled, “We’re done here.”

“No!”

A blinding golden light surrounded the blonde, and she began to grow taller than the Queen. A pair of white wings protruded from her back, spreading wide as if to show who was really in charge. Her eyes were entirely white, and hauntingly so. Her mouth did not move, yet still she spoke, her voice echoing as she did. Her arm shot out impossibly fast, lifting the Queen up off the ground by the neck.

“You do not make demands, monster. I am an Archangel, and you are nothing more than a demon. In my presence, you are but an ant. I could crush you in an instant, but unlike you, I know my place. Besides, there is no need to waste my power on a such a worthless insect.”

She dropped the Queen to the floor without grace.

The Queen glared up at her defiantly. “You forget, Archangel, that without darkness, there cannot be light.”

“Do not bother with your riddles, witch.”

The brunette’s painted lips twitched into a sly smirk. “What’s the matter? Too much for your bird-brain?”

The angel growled in frustration, sending the Queen skidding across the floor. Her back collided roughly with Henry’s bed, knocking the wind right out of her. She hissed in pain as her wings had taken most of the impact.

She gasped as the angel grabbed her by the throat, holding her high above the ground. The creature started to taunt her once again when she brought her hands up in a desperate attempt to pry its fingers away.

The second their hands touched, a familiar burst of energy sent them both flying backwards. Luckily, the Queen landed on the bed this time, and she was able to turn so that she didn’t do any further damage to her wings. She was going to need them if she wanted to get Henry back, which she most certainly did. When she looked up, she found the angel staring at her in shock.

“It happened again! What was that, witch?!”

“This isn’t my doing, you fool!”

“Then whose is it?”

“How should I know? I’m not familiar with this brand of magic.”

“It wasn’t dark magic, then?”

The Queen shook her head. “No, nor was it light. It was something else entirely. It almost seemed like both light and dark, yet at the same time, neither. I can’t explain it.”

She blinked in surprise when the angel offered her a hand.

“Well, perhaps you will, in time, but right now, we have a kid to save.”

The Queen raised a wary eyebrow. _“We?”_

“I’m sorry I threw you across the room,” said the angel, “and I’m sorry Henry was taken. Let me make it up to you, okay? I want to help, _Regina.”_

Reluctantly, the Queen took the angel’s glowing hand, and as she did, that same spark of magic surged between them. Her features softened into a genuine smile.

“Very well,” she said, _“Emma.”_


	8. Chapter 8

Henry’s eyes snapped open and he found himself standing in the same dark void from his dream. Not surprisingly, the terrifying light was shining down on him from above. He squinted as he tried to see where exactly it was coming from, but it was far too bright.

A familiar giggle echoed from somewhere in the shadows. _“I wouldn’t stare into the light if I were you, dearie!”_

More insane laughter rang out in his ears. It grew so loud— so _maddening—_ that he had to cover them, though it was little help.

“Stop!” he cried, “Please!”

 _“Please, please, please,”_ the voice taunted, “That’s how I used to control _mommy-dearest!_ Pity I can’t do the same with you, boy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You mean you don’t know? Oh my, you don’t, do you?” The unseen figure cackled madly in the darkness. “Well, this is certainly a surprise. There isn’t much that surprises me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Who are you?” Henry asked fearfully, “What do you want?”

“Who am I, you ask? Why, I go by many names! Demon, Monster, Imp, Crocodile, Dark One, but most importantly, _Rrrrrumplestiltskin!”_

* * *

They were waiting together in an old tuna cannery by the harbor. The stench was by far the worst either of them had ever encountered. Regina wasn’t sure which was worse, the repugnant odor or the angel’s appalling sense of humor (if one could even call it that) regarding the smell in relation to female anatomy. Fortunately, the blonde had stopped with the juvenile remarks once the Queen threatened to set her on fire.

“So,” said Emma, “How come Henry’s, you know, _human?”_

“He’s only half-human.”

“Oh yeah? That’s cool, I guess.” There was a pause. “So, who’s the father?”

Regina sighed. “How much longer until your ‘associate’ gets here?”

“Patience, Your Majesty. Jefferson’s a very busy man.”

“Well he’d better clear his schedule, or else I’ll do it for him!” the Queen fumed.

“Hey, relax.”

The Queen’s eyes glimmered a vicious red. “Don’t you _dare_ tell me to relax!” she seethed.

She backed off when she saw the fear in the angel’s eyes. She hugged herself tightly, biting at her lip with remorse.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “I just want my son back.”

“Don’t worry, Regina. We’ll find him,” Emma assured, “and we’ll kick the Dark One’s sparkly old ass!”

The Queen grimaced. “Thanks for that _delightful_ imagery, Miss Swan.”

Emma chuckled. “Sorry ‘bout that, Queenie.”

Regina rolled her eyes. She was about to make another quip when the doors swung open, and in walked Emma’s partner, Graham, followed by the mysterious Jefferson and his now-clear schedule.

“Emma!” called the Irishman, “I found the boy’s bag in the alley. Take a look inside.”

He handed it to her carefully, and her eyes widened when she saw what was inside. It was a bird cage containing a raven. She handed it carefully to the Queen.

“It’s his pet raven,” she said.

“What’s he doing with a raven?” asked Jefferson.

“He isn’t a pet,” Regina explained, “He’s an extension of my consciousness. I made him Henry’s familiar.”

Emma blinked, puzzled. “His _what now?”_

 _“Familiar,”_ the brunette said again, “It’s a type of spirit that attaches itself to whoever names it. It usually takes on the form of an animal. Think of it as a sidekick, of sorts. Whoever thinks of its correct name acquires power over it.”

“Alright, so what’s its name?”

Regina shook her head. “That, I don’t know.”

“What?! Didn’t you just say it was your bird?”

“He’s Henry’s now. He’s merely an extension for my astral presence. Henry is the one who named him.”

“You mean he didn’t tell you what it was?”

“I specifically warned him to never speak the raven’s name aloud.”

“Great,” said Emma, “That’s just great! How are we gonna find him now?”

“We aren’t,” Regina said calmly, “He is.”

She took the cage from the bag and unlocked it with her magic. The raven hopped up onto her arm and she stroked its head lightly with her finger.

“Take us to Henry, won’t you?” she cooed.

“Hey, I thought you said you had to know its name to have power over it,” said Emma.

“Under normal circumstances, yes,” Regina confirmed, “but seeing how he is a part of me, I have a certain advantage.”

The raven flapped his wings gracefully as he ascended, and the group was hot on his trail when he led them out of the warehouse. It took them a while to get wherever it was they were going, which turned out to be an eerie old pawnshop on the outskirts of the city.

“Wait,” said Graham, “I know this place. It was part of a crime scene a few years back.”

“Oh? What was the nature of this crime?” asked Regina.

“Robbery, I believe. I don’t think they ever caught the man responsible.”

“Why does any of that matter?” Emma quizzed, “Don’t we have a kid to find?”

“Forgive me, Miss Swan,” said Regina, “I don’t exactly get out much.”

“Right. Sorry. So, what’s the plan again?” The other three stared at her, unamused. She put her hands up sheepishly. “Just a joke.”

The Queen rolled her eyes. “Time to get serious. Time for Operation: _Save Henry.”_

Emma arched an eyebrow at her. “For real?”

“He’s always been better at coming up with names.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Regina narrowed her eyes at the blonde in warning. “You hush. I’m not wasting another second out here. You can either help me or I’ll just cut down each and every last _motherfucker_ who gets in my way.”

“Whoa, Regina,” Emma said, shocked, _“Language.”_

The Queen huffed as she stormed the building, spreading her wings in a display of fury once she was inside. Her eyes were the very shade of the blood she found herself lusting after.

_“Rumplestiltskin!”_

* * *

The Dark One howled with laughter. “Why, look who it is! It seems mommy-dearest has come to take back her spawn!”

Henry frowned. “What're you talking about? I don’t have a mom.”

“Oh, you silly boy! Don’t you see? _The Queen_ is your mother! Which makes you the _Prince of Shadows!”_


	9. Chapter 9

Regina charged into the back room, her comrades close behind. She was fuming. Black smoke rose from her fists, in which raging fire began to burn. It took everything in her power not to unleash her fiery wrath. Her dark makeup still streaked her face as though it were war paint. Her claws were digging into her palms, but she seemed to neither notice nor care. There was only one thing on her mind.

“Regina, wait!”

The Queen came to a halt, but did not turn around. “What, Swan?” she hissed.

“We can’t just barge in there!”

A vicious growl escaped the brunette. _“Watch me!”_

“Emma’s right,” said Graham, “We need a plan. How are we going to stop _You-Know-Who?”_

It was then that the raven cawed at them from its place on the Queen’s shoulder. This seemed to calm her down, if only for the time being. The others looked on in awe as she conversed quietly with the raven as though it were a child.

“Yes, yes, that’s a _marvelous_ idea,” she encouraged, “Do what you must, my darling.”

The raven flew from her shoulder and landed smoothly at her feet. It was then shrouded in an icy-blue whirlwind, which slowly lifted the bird from the floor. The grin on Regina’s face was one of the utmost glee, and yet, in the mystic glow, she appeared unreservedly wicked.

The frigid radiance grew so intense that even the Queen had to turn away. Then, as quickly as it had manifested itself, the light faded. As their eyes readjusted to the sudden darkness, everyone in the room felt as if they’d had the air stolen right out of their lungs.

There, where a raven had been only moments ago, knelt a man with deathly-pale skin, a stark contrast to his dark mop of hair and the Stygian wings protruding from his back. Across his chest were an array of archaic symbols, known only by the Queen. The man slowly lifted his head, staring up at the brunette with piercing eyes. They were the same icy-blue as the magic that had summoned him.

“My Queen,” he greeted.

Regina smiled. “Arise,” she said softly, _“Vladimir.”_

The man did so without hesitation. “How may I be of service to you, Your Majesty?”

The Queen pressed her hand to the markings on his chest. She watched in delight as they began to glow.

“Help us save Henry.”

The man’s thin lips twitched with the faintest hint of a smile. “It would be my honor.”


	10. Chapter 10

Upon pushing away the bookcase, behind which Emma sensed powerful magic, the group discovered a mysterious door. The first thing Emma noticed about the door was that it was sealed shut. There was no knob to turn, nor were there any hinges. She ran her fingers along the edges in search of even the slightest dent in the thick metal, but she found none.

“Damn, this thing’s solid! How are we supposed to beat the Dark One if we can’t even get through his front door?”

Regina stepped forward. “If I may?”

Emma stared at her skeptically. “Sure thing, Queenie.” This promptly earned her a glare.

“Step back, all of you,” said Regina.

She began clawing at the metal, putting forth all the strength she could muster, but alas, her efforts were in vain. She hadn’t left so much as a scratch on the door. Instead, it was her claws that took most of the damage. She winced in pain, but she was determined to keep going. She would find a way in no matter how badly she hurt herself, or anyone else, in the process.

Emma knitted her brow in worry. She reached out, placing her hand gently on the Queen’s shoulder.

“Regina, I really don’t think—”

Once more, the mysterious magic sparked between the two before dispersing outward, knocking everyone to the ground. Emma groaned in both pain and frustration as she pushed herself up off the floor.

“There it is again! What the hell is that?!”

Regina gasped. “Emma! Look!”

Sea-green eyes looked to the space where the door had been only moments ago. In its place was a void darker than black.

“W-What is that?” Emma whispered.

The angel’s eyes were wider than she had ever thought possible. She was overwhelmed with an immense feeling of dread that chilled her very soul.

Now she screamed. “Regina, what the hell is that?!”

“That, Miss Swan,” Regina told her, “is the Realm of Demons. It’s where monsters go when I banish them.”

Emma began to dry heave. She was overcome with a sudden wave of nausea. She shook her head almost violently.

“I-I can’t go in there.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I don’t like that feeling. I don’t wanna feel like that, Regina, I— I’m afraid.”

Ever so gently, the Queen took hold of the Archangel’s hand, and this time, the magic that flowed between them didn’t feel quite so strange. It felt right. They stared at each other in wonder, both of them at a loss for words. Anything they might have said was abruptly cut off by Jefferson.

“Sorry ladies, but now’s not the time for puppy-dog eyes.”

They reluctantly let go, Regina clearing her throat while Emma ducked her head so as to hide the blush that crept onto her cheeks. While their connection had not been severed, both women felt as though they were missing yet another fragment of themselves.

“Right,” said the Queen.

Emma tensed. “Sorry.”

Regina stepped up to the door with far more confidence than she actually felt. She could only pray that no one else noticed.

“Alright, let’s go,” she said, “I’d like to get this over with before sunrise.”

The five of them stepped carefully through the door. As they did, they took on their natural forms. The Queen’s claws rejuvenated and her canines extended into fangs. She allowed her eyes to drift shut, and as they opened, they flickered with murderous intent. Behind her, Emma emitted a glorious golden sheen and her cool, green eyes were clouded over with a milky white. Both women spread their wings wide with newfound confidence.

Graham’s skin took on a sickly greenish-gray, his ears grew pointed, and his eyes became a glistening gold. Jefferson’s eyes slipped shut, and upon his forehead, an eye-like symbol appeared.

Vladimir, on the other hand, remained just as he was. The familiar froze suddenly, his eyes wide and darting around cautiously in search of danger.

“I see little,” he said, “yet I hear all.”

Graham turned to his informant expectantly. “What about you, Jefferson? What do you see?”

The Queen raised an eyebrow. “How is he supposed to see with his eyes closed?”

“A Visionary does not need his eyes to see,” said Jefferson, “He needs only his mind.”

He took a deep breath as he reached out with his astral presence, weaving through the black sea of horrors until he came upon an abhorrent beam of light, under which he found a child.

The boy was sitting with his knees to his chest, crying and shaking uncontrollably. He had his face hidden, but the unfathomable fear he felt was flowing off of him in waves, strengthening the evil that surrounded him.

As remorseful as he felt for taking advantage of a child’s trauma, Jefferson was able to form a psychic bridge between them due to the sheer amount of emotion emanating from the boy’s mind.

_‘Henry.’_

The boy’s head shot up. His face was almost as red as his mother’s eyes. He looked around fearfully, not knowing where the voice had come from.

_‘Henry, listen to me. My name is Jefferson. I’m a friend— err, associate— of your mother’s. I’m speaking to you through a psychic bridge. I know how terrifying this is for you. Hell, even I’m on edge, but I need you to stay where you are. We’re getting you out of here.’_

Henry sniffed. _‘Please hurry.’_

_‘We’ll be there as soon as we can. I promise.’_

_‘Jefferson?’_

_‘Yeah, kid?’_

_‘Will you tell the Queen something for me?’_

_‘Of course.’_

* * *

Jefferson’s eyes flew open as the psychic bridge collapsed. Everyone was staring at him apprehensively, save for Vladimir (who wasn’t exactly the most expressive fellow). A solemn smile graced his lips as he met the Queen’s worried gaze.

“A message from the Prince, Your Majesty.”

Regina’s eyes gleamed with hopeful tears. “Well, what did he say?”

“He wants you to know he loves you.”


	11. Chapter 11

Much to their dismay, the mystic doorway had disappeared, leaving the group stranded in the nightmarish void. Fortunately for them, they had plenty of light to guide them through the darkness.

“I gotta be real, you guys,” said the angel, “I feel used right now. I’m not a fucking flashlight.”

The Queen couldn’t help but smirk. “No, Miss Swan. You’re more like the Human Torch.”

“Didn’t realize you were into comics, Your Majesty,” said Emma, “You know, since they’re fun and all.”

“Are you implying I don’t enjoy having fun?”

“Wasn’t sure you even knew how.”

The Queen rolled her eyes. “I do, in fact, and if you must know, Henry spent a great deal of time showing me his comic-book collection.” She smiled fondly at the memory.

Emma bit her lip as she took in the joy that masked the Queen’s face. She felt her heart clench painfully in her chest. She was wracked with guilt. It left a sickly feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Regina?”

“Hm?”

“I know this probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but I’m sorry. Really, I am. I shouldn’t have tried to keep you apart. It’s just,” Emma paused, “I was always told that dark angels couldn’t ever be trusted. I didn’t believe you actually cared about Henry. I thought I was doing the right thing. Again, I know this won’t fix things, but I’m so sorry, Regina.”

The Queen placed a hand upon the blonde’s shoulder, stunning her.

“It means more than you think, Emma. So much more. Believe me, I understand why you did what you did. I certainly don’t agree with it, but I know you were only doing what you were told was the right thing. You forget, I was an angel once, too. Now look at me. I did terrible things, though at the time, I truly believed my actions were just, and it was all because I had it ingrained in my head that as an angel, I was incapable of evil.”

She turned to Emma with a pained expression.

“I could have been an Archangel, like you.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I almost was, but do you know what it took for me to be cast out?”

At this point, Emma was afraid to ask, yet still, she did. She swallowed nervously. Her voice was hardly a whisper.

“What?”

“I fell in love with a mortal,” said the Queen. There was no anger in her voice. Only sorrow. “And if that wasn’t reason enough to exile me, I went and had his child.”

“What?! That’s why you— oh fuck, Regina, that’s— _fuck.”_

“Indeed.”

Emma summoned her golden badge to her hand, staring at it in a conflicted blend of anger and disbelief. She had been alive for, what, a thousand years now? She supposed it didn’t really matter.

What mattered was that for all that time, she had never once doubted the things she’d been told. She listened and she obeyed. That was how she earned her place among the Archangels. And what? Was she supposed to just keep up the act, pretending like nothing was wrong? Or that it was right to begin with?

She knew what she had to do, but that was going to have to wait. First, she had to make things right. For real this time.

“His name was Daniel,” Regina murmured.

Emma took the brunette’s hand in her own. Neither of them said a thing. The unspoken words between them proved to be the loudest.


	12. Chapter 12

Vladimir, having transformed back into a raven, flew ahead of the group, weaving through the vast horde of demons with only minor difficulty. He was dead-set on finding his Master. He would find the Prince, even if he died trying. He listened for his name but heard nothing. Why hadn’t the Prince summoned him? He then reported back to the Queen through a psychic bridge.

_‘My Queen, the Prince has yet to summon me. I fear something terrible has happened.’_

Regina bit her lip. _‘Perhaps the Dark One’s magic has kept him from doing so. Just keep trying, Vladimir. He can’t be far.’_

_‘Of course, my Queen.’_

Emma immediately took notice of the panic settling over the Queen’s face. She looked at the brunette in concern.

“Regina, hey,” she said softly, “Don’t worry. We’ll get him back. We’re so close, I can feel it.”

“He hasn’t tried calling upon his familiar,” Regina told her, “Not even once. What if— what if he—”

She choked back a sob.

Emma placed a comforting hand on the woman’s arm. “Regina, look at me. You can’t think like that. You’ve gotta stay strong, for Henry. For _yourself.”_

The Queen gave a small nod, offering the blonde a halfhearted smile.

“Thank you, Emma, I—”

She was cut off by a blood-curdling scream. That harrowing sound made her blood run cold, as it would have regardless of whom it came from, but this? This was the bitter icing on the putrid cake.

_“HENRY!"_


	13. Chapter 13

Of all the words ever uttered by man, whether their mother tongue be contemporary or forever buried in the Sands of Time, there was but one that even came close to describing the current state of the Queen.

_Motherhood._

She tore through the darkness as if it were ribbon. Her eyes were ravenous pyres, burning with such hatred, such malice. She charged into the scores of beasts, flinging them back with inconceivable strength. In that moment, none of them held so much as a candle to the raging inferno that was the Queen of Shadows.

In all her years as an Archangel, Emma had it instilled in her mind that the master she served was the Supreme Being— _the Almighty—_ but now she realized she was sorely mistaken. When separated from her child, there was no force in all the cosmos more powerful than a mother.

At long last, the Queen reached the haunting beam of light in which she found Henry screaming to escape the ghastly talons seeking to drag him into the darkness, and she, in all her terrifying glory, sent the creatures flying back with a raw burst of energy. Then, as if with the mere flip of a switch, she calmly scooped the crying boy into her arms, cradling his head tenderly against her chest. He gasped desperately for air, still sobbing uncontrollably.

 _“Shhh,”_ she cooed, “Listen to my heartbeat.”

The boy’s frantic hiccups subsided once he did. His eyes slowly drifted shut as he focused on the steady cadence of the Queen’s heart. It was more felt than heard, but he found it soothing either way.

“It’s alright, darling,” she murmured, “You’re safe now.”

_“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, dearie!”_

Demented laughter rang out in the shadows, drawing a frightened whimper from Henry. He was quick to cling to the Queen, who in turn held him even closer. She clenched her teeth in rage as the Dark One stepped into the eerie beacon.

“Well, isn’t this precious?” the Dark One taunted, accentuating his maniacal giggling with a dramatic gesture. “Mother and son, together at last!”


	14. Chapter 14

The Queen hugged the trembling boy tightly, baring her fangs hatefully at his tormenter. Her eyes once again faded from a soft brown to a sinister crimson. Her anger only grew with the imp’s incessant cackling.

“What do _you_ want?” she hissed.

“Oh, so touchy! And so presumptuous!”

“I don’t have time for your sick games, _imp,”_ Regina snapped, “What do you get out of terrorizing a child? He’s innocent!”

Now the Dark One was not so exuberant. He snarled at the Queen, baring his fetid, rotting teeth at her in exasperation.

_“No one is innocent!”_

The Queen scoffed. “Of course, _you_ of all people would think that.”

_“Regina!”_

Both the Queen and the Dark One looked to find Emma racing towards them with the others in tow, Vladimir perched on her shoulder. Once more, the black void echoed with the Dark One’s spine-chilling laughter.

“My, how the mighty have fallen! The Queen of Shadows, working alongside an Archangel, her sworn enemy! And what’s this? A Visionary? Pathetic! There is no oracle as powerful as I! Let’s see, what else have we here? Why, it’s a Therian, and— _oh!_ A Leprechaun! How cute! You certainly have a colorful cast of characters, Your Majesty! I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Enough talk, Dark One,” Graham spat, “This ends now.”

The Dark One let out a gasp of mock-terror. “Oh no! I’ve been threatened by a Leprechaun! Whatever shall I do?”

Once more, he erupted in a bout of hysterical laughter, though it was brief. He pointed an accusing finger at the frightened child in the Queen’s arms. A twisted grin spread across his shimmering face.

“I think you know what I want, dearie.”

Regina’s eyes widened in horror. “Never! I’m not going let you take him from me again!”

“And I won’t,” said the Dark One, “so long as you give yourself to me instead.”

“What? What do you want with me?”

“Oh, don’t act so naïve. You know what it is I desire, don’t you?”

The Queen hung her head in defeat. “If I do this, you will let him go,” she said firmly, “and you won’t so much as think of him ever again. Agreed?”

The Dark One sighed. “Well, that’s no fun! But yes, we have a deal.”

Regina set Henry down carefully, but he clearly did not wish to let go. She knelt before him and cupped his face in her hands, gently wiping his tears away with her thumbs. She offered him a solemn smile as she stroked his hair.

“You’re going home with Emma, sweet one,” she told him, “She will keep you safe.”

Henry frowned. “No, I don’t wanna be with her. She’s mean!”

Regina shook her head. “No, she isn’t. She was simply misguided, but now she’s on the right track. I promise you.”

“What about you? Aren’t you coming with us?”

“I’m afraid not, little one.”

“What?! How come?”

“It’s complicated, you see—”

“Complicated? Why no, it’s not complicated at all, dearie!” the Dark One exclaimed, “Pay close attention, boy! _Mommy-dearest_ has promised me her magic in exchange for your freedom!”

Regina squeezed her eyes shut remorsefully. As much as she wished it didn’t have to be this way, she had no other option.

Emma gasped in realization. “Regina, you didn’t!”

The Dark One snickered. “Oh, but she did!”

Henry frowned in confusion. “What’s going on? What did she do?”

Regina struggled to get the words out. “Angels are born from magic. It’s what we’re made of, and, well—”

“Her magic is her life-force,” the Dark One said giddily, “Without it, she will simply cease to exist! And once I have her power, I shall unleash every last demon from this miserable prison and conquer _all_ the realms!”

“Why would you do that?!” cried Henry.

“Because I love you, Henry. Never forget that.”

“I don’t wanna lose you! I just found you!”

Tears streamed down the Queen’s face. “You won’t lose me, Henry. I’ll always be with you, in here.”

She pressed her hand over his thundering heart. Her eyes then drifted upwards to the raven on Emma’s shoulder, and her lips curled into a faint smile. She pulled Henry into one final embrace. It took everything in her power to even consider letting him go.

“Take care of him for me, Emma.”

The angel could only nod. She had no choice but to drag Henry away, for he had begun to put up quite the struggle. She couldn’t say she blamed him, but at the same time, she was doing her friend a favor. The thought stunned her. Friend? Yes. The Queen— err, Regina— was her friend, wasn’t she? She would do whatever it took to keep Henry out of harm’s way, not because of the cheap trinket in her hand, but because it was the right thing to do.

“Let me go!” he screamed, “Please! I can’t just let her die!”

“I’m sorry, kid,” said the angel, “but I’m not about to let you die, too.”

Any further protest from Henry was cut off by the Queen’s agonizing screams. He felt completely hopeless, unable to break free from the Archangel’s clutches. He believed her when she said she wished to protect him, but right now, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the Queen— no, his mother— was having the magic ripped from her heart by a madman. He was on the verge of admitting defeat when he remembered his mother’s words.

_‘Only think of his name in your mind, and he will come to you.’_

He gasped. _‘Vladimir!’_

_‘Yes, Master?’_

_‘Do you think you can get the angel to let me go?’_

_‘But, the Queen—’_

_‘No! I’m your master, right?’_

_‘…Yes.’_

_‘Then please, make her let go!’_

_‘As you wish.’_

The raven suddenly began flailing wildly against Emma, cawing loudly into her ear. She cursed, slapping her hands over her ears so as to drown out the intense ringing.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, ya stupid bird?!”

She gasped when she realized Henry was no longer with her. She started to give chase, but Vladimir transformed back into a man and blocked her path. She tried to knock him back, only to find that he was a lot stronger than he appeared. Enraged, she grabbed him by the wrist and flung him to the ground.

“Sorry about that, _Voldemort,_ but I’ve got a kid to save!”

Again, she attempted to chase after the boy, but his familiar leaped onto her back, knocking her to the ground. She wasn’t about to admit it, but she totally had that coming. Karma was certainly a bitch.

“I am truly sorry, Archangel,” Vladimir said stoically, “but I was given a direct order to stop you.”

“By who?” Emma snapped, “Henry?”

“Precisely.”

Emma let out a growl. “Fuck! Damn it, Henry! Guys, stop him!”

Graham and Jefferson attempted to rush past Vladimir, but he flung his arms out, casting a protection spell that put up a barrier between them and Henry. Even if she was strong enough to get this punk off of her (he was also a lot heavier than he looked), Emma never would have been able to reach Henry in time. She wasn’t familiar with that particular spell, so figuring out how to break it would have taken even longer than the actual breaking. She could only watch in horror as the boy flung himself in front of the Queen, screaming in excruciating pain the second the Dark One’s magic penetrated his heart.

She and the Queen cried out concurrently, _“HENRY!”_

Even the Dark One seemed shocked by this, as his chaotic flow of magic was suddenly broken off, as if cut with shears. And as it did, Henry fell to the ground, lifeless. The harrowing wail that erupted from the Queen’s lips could have easily put a Banshee to shame. She was at his side in an instant, crying out in despair as she gathered his limp body in her arms. Once more, she cradled his head against her chest.

A thought crept into her mind, but she refused to acknowledge its presence. She wouldn’t— no, she _couldn’t—_ do that to Henry. No one deserved that. Especially not this precious child in her arms, this child who meant everything to her.

The more she pondered it, the more she realized how little of a choice she had. It was either this, or— she couldn’t bring herself to even think of the alternative. But this? For her, this had been a far worse fate. She wasn’t perfect. She knew that. But she tried. She tried, for Henry, because he was perfect in every way, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin that. How cruel that doing so was the only way to save him.

She cupped his face as though he were fragile, and with the tenderness only a mother could provide, she pressed her lips to his forehead. The second she did, a vibrant burst of energy shot outwards, washing over the Dark One and all of his heinous minions.

In that moment, Henry’s eyes flew open and the color returned to his cheeks as he gasped for air. He stared up at her, eyes wide, and he grinned.

_“Mom.”_


	15. Chapter 15

The boy gasped when he noticed the wings now protruding from his back, having burst out through his shirt. They weren’t sable, like his mother’s, nor were they purely white. They were a smoky gray, as if someone had coated them in ash.

“Henry, I—”

“Wow, this is so awesome!” he declared, “Does this mean I can fly? Like Superman?”

The immense guilt masking his mother’s face shifted into a look of bewilderment. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by what had just occurred, though he blinked at her in uncertainty when he saw the conflict in her eyes.

“What’s the matter?”

“Forgive me, little one,” she said, “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I didn’t want to put you through this, but— but I just couldn’t lose you.”

“Put me through what?”

“I—”

“How selfish of you, Your Majesty,” the Dark One jeered, “turning your _innocent_ little spawn into a monster! Just like _you!”_

The Queen grit her teeth. “I did it to save him!”

“No! You only did it to save _yourself!”_

“That’s rich, coming from you! I thought that you, of all people, would understand the pain of losing a child!”

Blind fury flashed across the Dark One’s face. He stormed towards the Queen, whose first instinct was to shield her son with her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the impact of the imp’s sinister magic. It never came. Instead, the deranged fiend was sent flying out of the light and into the hellish void, having been struck by a potent rush of power.

Startled, the Queen looked to find Emma standing there, arms outstretched, with golden waves of magic seeping from her fingers. A rather devilish grin spread across her angelic face.

 _“Emma,”_ Regina breathed.

“Looked like you could use a hand there, Queenie.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, turning away from the angel to hide the blush currently creeping onto her cheeks. She brought a hand to the back of her son’s head, holding him gently. She pressed her lips to his forehead once more, closing her eyes as a single tear rolled down her cheek. A soft smile tugged at her lips.

“Thank you, Emma,” she whispered, _“Thank you.”_


	16. Chapter 16

Henry was back in the safety his own bed, lying on his stomach and drooling onto his pillow. His wings twitched as he dreamt— only good dreams, of course. His mother smiled warmly at him, sitting quietly on the edge of his bed as she watched him sleep.

“Hey there, Queenie.”

Regina looked up to find Emma standing in the open doorway, having taken on her human form once more. Despite the mild annoyance that bubbled within her, the Queen smiled.

“Emma.”

“How’s the kid?”

Regina squeezed the boy’s hand gently. “I’d say he’s doing as well as he can ever be, considering the circumstances.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The Queen shot her a playful smirk. “I’m always right, Miss Swan.”

The angel folded her arms, chuckling. “Oh yeah?”

As she did, the light from the hallway reflected dimly off of her badge. She followed the Queen’s gaze and stared at it, conflicted. She pulled it from her belt and studied it with a mask of indifference. Internally, however, her stringent upbringing and her newfound reality clashed viciously. She was terrified, and rightfully so. The Queen’s hand on her arm pulled her from her troubled thoughts.

“Are you alright, Emma?”

The blonde offered her a tight-lipped smile. “Just peachy.”

“You needn’t lie to me, dear.”

“What? I’m not lying,” Emma said defensively.

Regina sighed. “Must I keep reminding you that I, too, was an angel? I always know when someone is being dishonest.”

Emma’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Right. Sorry. It’s just that, well,” she paused, “I’m afraid.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“I can’t just waltz back up there like everything’s hunky dory. He’s gonna know that I’m not on His side anymore. Hell, I bet He already does.” She clutched her badge tightly. “And do you know what He’ll do?”

“Exile you, I imagine.”

Emma shook her head. “No, Regina. Angels get exiled.” She bit her lip. “Archangels, on the other hand, well, they _die.”_

Regina gasped. _“What?”_

“He’s gonna send the others after me— if He hasn’t already— and they’re gonna make sure I suffer.”

Regina placed both hands on the Archangel’s shoulders. “Emma, look at me. You’re strong. You helped put an end to the _Dark One._ If anything, they should be singing your praises, but if they _do_ come after you, just know that I’ll be by your side, every step of the way.”

“You don’t have to get tangled up in my affairs, Reg—”

“No, Emma, I don’t _have_ to do anything. I’m a Queen, and a bit more refined,” Regina teased, “but in all seriousness, I’m going to help you because I want to. Because you helped me get Henry back, and you— in your oh, so eloquent words— _‘kicked the Dark One’s sparkly old ass.’”_

Emma gaped at Regina in awe, which brought a smile to the brunette’s painted lips.

“And besides,” Regina continued, “what sort of example would I be setting for Henry if I didn’t help a friend in need?”

The angel grinned. “We _are_ friends, aren’t we?”

A blush rose onto her face when the Queen planted a light kiss upon her cheek. She was at a loss for words. Fortunately, Regina spoke instead.

“Always.”


	17. Chapter 17

A month had passed since the Dark One’s defeat, but everyone was still on edge. They were so worried about Henry’s safety that they ensured he was never alone. He almost wished they would back off, but in truth, he reveled in their company, especially his mother’s.

Regina and Emma seemed to be getting along quite well— perhaps a little _too_ well, though they seemed oblivious to their indisputable pining. This didn’t keep them from engaging in playful banter, of course, though sometimes they did have genuine disagreements.

Emma was adamant that Henry be trained in magic, so that he could defend himself if and when he needed to. His mother, on the other hand, was completely against the idea. She was insistent that if any danger befell him, she would always be there to protect him. She simply couldn’t let go of the idea that teaching a ten-year-old magic would only get him into more trouble. Had he been older, he probably would have agreed. Probably. But being ten, he most certainly did not. And neither did Emma, who had been alive for centuries, yet still possessed the psyche of a teenage boy.

On this day, however, there was not so much as a peep about magic, save for the magic of love and togetherness. Unfortunately, yet another argument broke out between the Queen and the angel over which tradition Henry should take part in.

“I’m telling you, Regina, he should be celebrating Christmas!” Emma declared, “I’ve always been pretty tight with Old J.C., ya know!”

“What happened to renouncing the Heavens?”

Emma folded her arms. “Just because I quit my job doesn’t mean I’m giving up my traditions.”

“You just want an excuse to splurge on food and gifts!”

“And you _don’t?!”_

Regina scoffed. “Of course not! That isn’t what Yule is about!”

“Guys, stop!” Henry begged, “Christmas and Yule aren’t really that different. Just like you two. Can’t we just, you know, _do both?”_

The two women fell silent, both feeling guilty for shouting at one another, especially in front of the boy— the boy who, as it turned out, was much wiser than either of them had anticipated.

And they couldn’t be prouder.

Regina gently stroked her son’s head. “Of course we can, darling. Can’t we, Emma?” Her tone left no room for debate.

“Sure thing, Gina.”

Regina blinked quickly, surprised by the nickname. _“Gina?”_ she quizzed.

Emma shrugged. “Figured it was better than ‘Queenie.’”

“You figured right.”

They locked eyes, and as green met brown, they felt that increasingly-familiar rush of magic swell between them. Anything they may have said was cut off by the sound of Henry’s exaggerated gagging.

_“Gross!”_

They both shared a laugh. Henry may have been wise beyond his years, but he was still only ten years-old. The two women pulled the boy into a tight embrace, wishing they never had to let go.

“So, can I get a puppy?” Henry asked out of the blue.

Regina blinked at him incredulously. “What? No, you—”

“Are _absolutely_ getting a puppy!” Emma interjected.

 _“Miss Swan!”_ Regina cried, exasperated.

“Ah, let the kid have a puppy, Gina,” the angel argued, “He’s been through some serious sh— _crap.”_

The Queen raised an eyebrow at Emma’s slip-up, just grateful the blonde caught herself. As she glanced between them, she took note of the hopeful glimmer in each of their eyes and sighed in defeat, shaking her head.

“Very well,” she said reluctantly, “but don’t think for a second that I will be taking care of this puppy. It will be your responsibility, young man. I already have my hands full, looking after two children.”

Henry blinked at her, puzzled. _“Two_ children?”

Regina smirked. “Yes, dear. You and Emma.”

She and Henry shared a laugh, though Emma clearly didn’t find this so amusing. The blonde let out a huff.

“Oh, very funny, Gina. I’m just _dying_ of laughter.”

“You are kinda like a kid,” said Henry.

“Hey, I thought you were on my side!”

“We’re all on the same side.”

“Wise words, kiddo,” said Emma. She looked up at Regina. “You sure he’s not a Visionary?”

Regina smiled. “Yes, I’m certain. I just have a very bright boy.”

* * *

That night, they all squeezed into Henry’s blanket fort— this one big enough for the three of them— and the two women flanked him from either side as he showed them his latest masterpiece. It was a picture of all of them, the two angels, light and dark, holding hands with him. They were all smiling, both in the drawing and in reality.

The sentiment behind it brought tears to the Queen’s eyes. “That’s beautiful, Henry.” She kissed his head sweetly. “Well done, my little Prince.”

Henry grinned, leaning into her as she brought her arm around him. They were each overcome with a sense of déjà vu. It only grew with the sound of her soft humming, which was quick to put the boy to sleep. She kissed him once more before quietly making her way out from under the little fort, Emma close behind. She then set the drawing on the nightstand, handling it with care.

“Would you mind keeping an eye on him?” she asked quietly, “I need to make sure nothing is lurking in the shadows.”

Emma nodded. “You got it, Gina. I’ll just crash on the kid’s bed.”

Regina chuckled. “You truly _are_ a child. Take care, Emma, not just of him, but of yourself.”

“Right back at ya.”

And with that, the Queen of Shadows returned to her realm.

* * *

It wasn’t long after Emma had fallen asleep that a sound drew her back into awareness. It was quiet, nothing more than the creak of a floorboard. Most people might not have even noticed it, but she wasn’t _most people._ At first, she assumed it was probably just Henry shifting in his blanket fort, but her eyes flew open in panic when she heard the distinct clacking of hooves.

And they were growing closer to the bed.

Emma lied completely still beneath the sheets, facing away from whatever horror was lurking behind her. She could see its sinister shadow upon the wall, growing larger and larger with every step.

The thing, whatever it was, had large horns that curled back over its enormous head. Its back was hunched, and it looked to be carrying a large bag of some sort. Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew _exactly_ what this thing was. She was proven right the second the creature started reaching for her with its deadly talons.

She spun around with inhuman speed, grabbing the beast by the wrist, only to find herself face to face with a pale man wearing a ton of eyeliner. She was quick to realize it was not a hand she was clutching, but rather, a silver hook. She let out a sharp gasp.

“Who the hell’re you?!” she demanded.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, love,” said the man.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Again, I should be asking you the same question.”

Emma’s heart was pounding. “Get the fuck out of here!”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Not without the boy.”

“What— just who the hell do you think you are, showing up here in the dead of night? It’s almost Christmas! Now fuck off!”

“I believe you mean _Yuletide,”_ the man corrected.

“Where I come from, we keep ‘Christ’ in Christmas!”

The man laughed darkly. “Ah, now I see. You’re an angel. I take it you have no idea who _I_ am?”

“Nope. Don’t really care,” Emma deadpanned.

Ignoring her, the man continued: “The mortals know me as _Krampus.”_

“Oh, _shit.”_


End file.
